Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(121)

“Out!” Claire screamed. “Get out now!”

Amelie had hit the second bar twice without breaking it, and Myrnin joined her, kicking it with his bare foot between her blows. About three seconds later, the whole thing bent and then snapped completely free.

It wasn’t a huge opening, but it was enough.

Amelie lunged out, and Myrnin after her. Shane went next and held out his hand for Claire.

But Oliver wasn’t moving.

“Leave him!” Shane yelled. Hannah’s hand was hovering over the button, shaking, as if she were trying desperately to fight for their lives, and losing. “Claire, come on, now!”

She couldn’t, because Oliver opened his eyes and began to move.

Claire broke loose from Shane’s grasp and lunged for the vampire.

Oliver opened his eyes as she started dragging him, and he reached out to grab the bars and hold himself in place. “No,” he said. “I have to—I have to pay for what I did.”

“Not like this,” Claire said. “Come on!”

But he wouldn’t let go. The idiot wouldn’t let go….

She saw Naomi’s head turn; she saw her take in the fact that her prisoners were getting loose, and she glared sharply at Hannah—

Who lost the internal battle, and hit the button that turned on the gas burners.

“Let go!” Claire shrieked as the flames shot up. She rolled for the hole in the cage bars and felt Shane yank her free into his arms. Her shirt was burning. He slapped the flames out.

Amelie reached past them, grabbed Oliver’s burning form, and yanked him out with all her strength. The bar he’d been holding snapped in half, but he slid free.

Still on fire.

Amelie stared down at him for a bare second with true horror written on her face, then threw herself down on him, smothering the fire with her body and her hands. He was scorched and smoldering, but alive.

Oliver’s burned hands moved, caressing her shoulders, and he whispered, “Forgive me.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Hush.”

“Stop me before I hurt you again.”

“I will.” She sat up as he closed his hands around her neck, and she drove the wooden arrow that she’d pulled from her own chest into his heart. Oliver went limp.

But Michael and Hannah had just rounded the corner, armed and ready to kill, and there was nothing but Naomi’s will in their expressions now.

They were puppets—deadly puppets.

Amelie didn’t seem to know, or care. Myrnin grabbed Hannah, avoiding the silver-edged knife as she expertly sliced it at him, and tried to throw her off-balance. “Don’t hurt her!” Claire cried. “It’s not her fault!”

Michael was still coming. Shane let go of her and faced off with him. “Not gonna happen, bro,” he said. Michael bared fangs at him, and Shane held up the stake in his hand. “Not in this lifetime. I already had a vamp kiss me today. Not going all the way—”

But the banter wasn’t slowing Michael down, and before Claire could take a breath, Michael had rushed forward, grabbed Shane’s arm, and was relentlessly bending it back until the stake rattled on the granite slab. It rolled toward the cage and caught on fire from the inferno raging inside.

At that moment, Claire saw Miranda and Jenna step into view behind them, and Jenna let go of Miranda…and the air turned darkly electric with the rush of whispers.

Even Michael paused. There was something terrifying in that sound, something wrong.

Claire blinked, because she could see shadows now in the glare of the fire—shadows that moved on their own. Human-formed, they rushed forward past Miranda. Some piled onto Hannah, and although Claire could hardly see them, they must have had an effect, because Hannah staggered and stopped trying to stab the hell out of Myrnin. He let go and backed away, and she swatted at the whirl of shadows around her, movements growing more and more frantic and erratic.

And weak.

And then she went to her knees, and fell.

The same was happening to Michael, a storm of ghost-fury around him, and as Shane backed away, Claire saw one of the shadows break loose from the angry swarm and come toward her boyfriend.

The small figure took on shape and a glassy kind of reality as it approached him.

“Lyss,” Shane whispered, “thank you.”

She held out her hand; just for a moment, Shane took it. Claire saw the power that ran between them, a burst that exploded like a star in Alyssa’s shadow-body and gave her, just for a few seconds, reality.

“I love you,” Alyssa said, still holding on. “I just had to tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

Then she let go and faded into starlight.

Gone.

Shane staggered backward, and Claire caught him. His heart was beating fast, and he felt cold despite the inferno-like temperature of the gas jets nearby.

Michael was down now, and the ghost-swarm buzzed on for a few seconds before Miranda—called them back? That was what it looked like, Claire thought. The ghosts gathered like a cloak around her, crowding and whispering, and Miranda shuddered and turned very, very pale, almost translucent.

Jenna grabbed her hand, and she stabilized again.

“Bring them,” Amelie said, pointing to Hannah and Michael. She stared at Jenna and Miranda for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do with them, then inclined her head just a tiny bit. It was a bow of recognition, if not approval.